


And Still Love Each Other in the Morning

by iceblink



Series: Swan Queen Week 2015 [5]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Swan Queen Week 2015, Swan Queen Week Summer 2015
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-16
Updated: 2015-07-16
Packaged: 2018-04-09 17:08:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4357427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iceblink/pseuds/iceblink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>""Can two friends sleep together and still love each other in the morning?" My, what a deep, profound question; I simply must watch this film to find out the answer.” </p><p>“Yep,” Emma says happily, deliberately ignoring the sarcasm as she bends over to put the DVD in the drive. When she returns, she sits right next to Regina, despite the fact that the sofa seats four - a trick she’s pulled a few times now - and Regina simply smiles, grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bowl. </p><p>Written for day 5 of Swan Queen Week: Best Friend Relationship. In short, Emma and Regina watch When Harry Met Sally...</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Still Love Each Other in the Morning

“Enlighten me, Miss Swan, which of Adam Sandler’s masterpieces are you planning on subjecting us to this time?” Regina sighs, lowering herself delicately onto the sofa so as not to spill the large glass of merlot she’s poured herself. She’s always a little suspicious when it’s Emma’s turn to pick for movie night: the blonde has an unfortunate fondness for 80s buddy comedies, sappy family films featuring animals, and the occasional schlocky horror, although she suspects Emma only picks the latter because she secretly rather likes hearing Regina comment on the serial killers’ strategic ineptitude.

“That was one time, Regina, and it was _The Wedding Singer_ , which is _really_ not a bad film. Anyway, now that I’ve found _Mob Wives_ on your DVR, you’ve lost _any_ authority to judge my viewing choices,” Emma retorts, although it’s barely decipherable over the large handful of popcorn she’s stuffed into her mouth.

“Say it, don’t spray it dear,” she replies, ostentatiously wiping off a crumb of popcorn from her face. She _really_ wishes that Emma hadn’t found out about _Mob Wives_ ; it’s rather ruining her image as the cultural critic of the pair.

“Anyway, tell me, what bargain bin staple am I going to be wasting two hours on tonight?”

“Oh,” Emma smiles, her face lighting up in that childish, hopeful way that Regina finds, despite her continual efforts to hate it, rather endearing. “I really do think you’re gonna like this one, actually - it’s certified fresh on _Rotten Tomatoes_ and everything.”

Regina furrows her brow, not getting the reference, but her eyes roll when she sees Emma take out the DVD and she sees a couple - 80s _again_ by the looks of it - mooning at each other over a silhouette of a city.

“Oh, for god’s sake, Emma, not another romantic comedy. I thought I’d made my feelings on the genre entirely clear after you subjected me to _Sleepless in Seattle_.”

“Oh, stop, Regina,” Emma replies. “You _totally_ cried when they were up there on the Empire State Building; you think I don’t know by now that the feared, terrifying Evil Queen is actually a massive softy?”

Blushing, she grabs the DVD case, and, turning her face away from Emma, who’s smiling at her knowingly - _damn her_ \- she busies herself in examining the cover. “ _Can two friends sleep together and still love each other in the morning?_ My, what a deep, profound question; I simply _must_ watch this film to find out the answer.”

“Yep,” Emma says happily, deliberately ignoring the sarcasm as she bends over to put the DVD in the drive. When she returns, she sits right next to Regina, despite the fact that the sofa seats four - a trick she’s pulled a few times now - and Regina simply smiles, grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bowl.

And the movie starts, and, while she makes a token effort to be quiet for the first few minutes, Regina can’t resist the temptation of a few snarky comments, because, really, it all does seem very predictable, as the perky blonde and the slobbish oaf trade barbs in the car.

“Why, in films, when two people don’t like each other, do we know that by the end of the film they’re going to end up together? When I don’t like someone, I want to immolate them with a fireball, not -“

“-It’s the _way_ they don’t like each other, Regina,” Emma says, rolling her eyes. “Whenever there’s wordplay like that, it’s basically film code for sexual tension. They really want to jump each other’s bones, but they can’t, so they release the tension by bickering. That’s the whole point.”

“But that’s just unrealistic,” she says. “If being mean to someone is supposed to indicate sexual tension, that would mean that I have sexual tension with half the residents of Storybrooke.”

And she looks across, smirking a little, and can see a faint tinge of red appear on Emma’s cheeks. “Well, you know, Madame Mayor, I’d always thought that there was something between you and Leroy. That sparkling back-and-forth that you have, and all.”

And Regina finds herself unable to suppress a smile, and bumps her side slightly against Emma’s in indignation, before Emma, chuckling, bumps her back, and doesn’t move away, so that their legs are pressed right up together. And of course the only reason Regina doesn’t move her leg away is that she’s already pressed up against the arm of the sofa, but, she must admit, it feels pretty comfortable, sitting with Emma like this.

“And anyway, Sally, she’s awful. “ _One of those cheerful people who dot their “i’s” with little hearts_ ” - if I’d wanted to watch a film about your mother, I’d have just put on Snow White.”

“Shut up and watch the movie, woman.”

______________________________________________________________________________

An hour later, Regina has to admit, despite her ongoing commentary of the film’s flaws, that the movie is actually one of Emma’s better efforts - yes, it’s formulaic, and the ending’s entirely predictable, but it’s witty enough to be a passing diversion, and not so sappy that she’s going to end up embarrassing herself by having to, yet again, pretend to have an eyelash in her eye.

And then, all of a sudden, just as she’s acknowledging some of the movie’s more redeeming qualities, Harry and Sally are in a diner discussing orgasms, and before she knows it the woman is gurning around like she’s being possessed by a demon, writhing and wailing and screaming “yes, yes, yes” in a way that is the exact opposite of erotic.

“Well, Miss Swan, this movie has just plummeted in my estimation. There is no way that anyone would take that for a credible impression of the female orgasm.”

“Really?” Emma replies, waggling her eyebrows salaciously. “And you’ve seen enough to generalise, have you, Madame Mayor?”

And Regina blushes, but, well, if they’re playing chicken, she’s not going to suffer the humiliation of backing down first. “Wouldn’t you like to know, Miss Swan? What I will say, is that I’ve experienced enough orgasms to know that that is absolutely nothing like it. It’s much more…erotic, should I say, more shuddering, shivering, not thrashing around like you’re having an epileptic fit.”

And she’s won, and now Emma’s blushing, looking away from her, and it’s her own fault for starting something she wasn’t able to finish, for thinking she could scandalise the Evil Queen. “Not a screamer then, Regina?”

“Again, Miss Swan, wouldn’t you like to know?”

And Emma’s quiet now, stuffing her mouth full of popcorn instead of replying, even though most of what’s left in the bowl is the unpopped kernels.

“Well, it seems I’ve finally found a way to shut you up. Have fun breaking your teeth.”

______________________________________________________________________________

By the end of the movie, Regina’s sleepy, and her head is lolled against the back of the sofa, barely inches above Emma’s shoulder, and she can’t deny that it’s cozy, this, the two of them sitting close to each other and debating the merits - or otherwise - of various films. In fact, it’s the main reason she looks forward to movie night, the main reason she’s made sure it’s still a weekly fixture, even now Henry’s off at college.

“So, what did you think?” Emma says as the credits start to roll, Harry and Sally now happily married and talking about coconut cake.

“Well, I didn’t entirely hate it,” Regina admits. “The dialogue was witty enough, and, although the tagline was awful, I actually agree with the premise. Perhaps it’s right, perhaps the best person to fall in love with is your best friend.”

“I suppose,” Emma says, and Regina can see that Emma is looking at her closely, almost as if she’s searching her face for a hint of something. “The only bit I don’t like, I guess, is that he sleeps with her and then leaves her in the morning. For me, if I found that person, that person who was it for me, and it was my best friend, and she loved me too, I’d never want to leave.”

“She?” Regina responds instinctively, before she can think, and then they’re there, staring at each other, and Regina hopes to God that Emma’s thinking what she’s thinking, that this isn’t all some horrid misunderstanding.

And Emma’s frozen still, having realised what she said, and, suddenly, Regina sees that Emma’s terrified, terrified of being rejected, terrified that she’s messed the whole thing up, terrified that once again she’s the lost girl without a family, without a home. And something inside her just melts, and, before Emma can run, she finds herself lowering her head onto Emma’s shoulder, softly stroking a hand up her arm. And Emma stills a little, her muscles relaxing slightly, but it’s not enough, and Regina knows that it’s her who has to be brave.

“Emma,” she says softly, her voice barely more than a whisper. “I’m no expert on romance, but I think that, if you were to ask, you’d find that _she_ would be more than amenable to your suggestion.”

“What suggestion?” Emma whispers back.

“Of never leaving.”

And with that, Emma slowly, hesitantly, curls her arm around Regina, and they sit there, silently, each of them melding into the other. And, gradually, there is kissing, touching, whispered promises, and Regina gets to confirm her claim that When Harry Met Sally is in no way a reliable guide to the female orgasm.

_____________________________________________________________________________

“Regina?” Emma says quizzically as they loll in bed the next morning, sated and content to just lie there, wrapped up in each other. 

“Mmmm,” she whispers back sleepily, pushing her face through Emma’s mane of hair to kiss her cheek.

“I just wanted to check if you’d found the answer to your question.”

‘What question?”

“You know, the tagline, the one you laughed at. “ _Can two friends sleep together and still love each other in the morning?_ ”

And Regina initially rolls her eyes and smirks, but then she sees Emma’s nervous face, and realises the magnitude of what Emma’s actually asking. And, before Emma can feel self-conscious, can start to doubt, Regina wraps herself up in her and presses their lips together. “Oh yes, Miss Swan, I’ve found the answer to the question, although, I suspect, I knew it all the time.”

And she smiles, brushes Emma’s hair from her face as she strokes her fingers down her cheek and how did she ever, ever get so lucky as to fall in love with her best friend?

“And what would that answer be, Madame Mayor?”

Regina pushes back a little, lifting her face so that he eyes lock with Emma’s. And part of her wants to joke, to bicker, but they’ve got a lifetime for that, and now it’s just time to lie here, arms and hearts finally open to each other. And so she looks at Emma, her lovely, beautiful, idiot Emma, and says, simply, emphatically “yes.”


End file.
